


Snug as an EBUG in Pads

by Pugglemuggle



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: (players are mentioned and do appear but have no lines), Caitlin Farmer is also pure, Chatting & Messaging, Chris Chow is pure, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, Goalies, Hockey, San Jose Sharks, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, very mild hockey rpf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-21 18:19:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8255654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pugglemuggle/pseuds/Pugglemuggle
Summary: EBUG: (n) Hockey slang for "Emergency Backup Goalie". The NHL requires every team to have an Emergency Backup Goalie on call in case a goalie on the home or visiting team can't play. And for the San Jose Sharks? The EBUG is Chris Chow.Most Emergency Backup Goalies never get the phone call, but, well.... Chowder's lucky.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally supposed to be written for the Fanzine _Welcome to the Show_ but I... uh... I missed the deadline. So I'm posting it for Chowder's birthday instead. Enjoy!

They’d never expected this to actually happen.

It was a typical Thursday night. At a quarter past seven o’clock, Caitlin shimmied into her Shark-themed pajamas and turned on the TV. “Hey, sweetie?” she called into the kitchen. “The game is going to start soon. You almost done with those dishes?”

“Yeah, don’t worry! I’m almost done!” Chris called back.

“Okay, but hurry up! You gotta be ready, you know—just in case.”

“Right,” he laughed.

“Hey, you never know,” Caitlin teased. She walked to the doorway of the kitchen and leaned against the doorframe, grinning at her fiancé. “Tonight could be the night.”

He looked up and smiled back at her, elbow-deep in soapy water. It had been years since he got his braces off, but sometimes it still surprised her to see him without them. In her head he was still the goofy kid who knocked her over near the pond during their freshman year.

“Well, I hope it’s not tonight,” Chris said. “They only call up Emergency Backup Goalies if one of their own goalies goes down, and that would be, like, _really bad_ . The Sharks have had a rough season already. I don’t know what we would do if _another_ player got hurt.”

Caitlin nodded. “True. But consider: you’d get a jersey with your name on it.”

“I dunno, it’s still super unlikely,” Chris said, shrugging. “I’m probably not the first on their Emergency Backup Goalie list. Jack just got them to put me in the mix since I live close to the arena and have good college stats—”

“ _Great_ college stats,” Caitlin corrected. “Your team went to the final four _every single year_ when you were there, and you won Samwell’s first the NCAA championship trophy. You had scouts after you! Actual NHL scouts! For a _goalie!_ ”

“Um,” Chris said, biting his lip and blushing. “Yeah, but, you know. College stats aren’t everything, and they probably aren’t too happy that I chose to go to grad school for the last year and a half instead of the NHL. They’d probably call in someone from the farm team first.”

“Yeah….” Caitlin sighed. “I know. It’d still be super ‘swawesome though.”

“Yeah,” Chris agreed. “Super ‘swawesome.”

Chris finished the dishes and they settled on the couch in front of the TV, a bowl of popcorn between them to share. The anthem was just starting to play. Caitlin tucked her feet under Chris’s legs, because they were cold, and Chris reached across the couch to hold her hand.

The first period of the game started out more or less uneventfully. The away team—the Seattle Schooners—were playing pretty good defense, so the Sharks kept getting robbed of opportunities to shoot. The shots-on-goal numbers were pretty low on both sides by the time half of the period was up, and the scoreboard was still at 0-0. Chris got to his feet.

“I’m going to get a soda from the fridge. Do you want one?”

“Sure! Could you grab me a—”

“Cherry coke?”

“Yes! I love you, baby,” Caitlin called back. She turned to the game.

Chris left the room. She heard the sound of the fridge door opening. On the TV, the Schooners finally got possession of the puck and made a charge down towards the Sharks goal line. “Hey, babe, come back. The Schooners are trying for a breakaway,” she said. The Schooners’ left wing was racing right down the center. The Sharks goalie was in position, balanced with his knees together, his gloves out. The left wing pulled back his stick for the shot. One moment the puck was on the ice, and the next it was shooting through the air straight for the goalie’s helmet.

She could hear the crack even through the TV.

“Chris?” Caitlin asked. She turned around and Chris was standing there behind the couch, a can of soda in each hand, staring at the TV with an expression that could only be described as thunderstruck.

“. _..and the medics are checking him out now,_ ” the announcer was saying. “ _That’s at least a concussion, I’d say. It looks like they’re going to have to escort him off the ice_ ….”

“They’ll call someone from the farm team,” Chris blurted out. “The Barracudas are based right next to the arena, I’m sure—”

“But are you sure the farm team is in town?” Caitlin asked. “Are you sure they’re not at an away game?”

“Yeah, I mean, they’re just—” Chris suddenly stopped talking and froze, his eyes widening. “Oh my god. Oh my god, they’re _not_ in town—they’re playing in Austin this week. _Oh my god_.”

A loud buzzing sound interrupted them. They both turned to see Chris’s phone vibrating on the coffee table. _INCOMING CALL,_ the screen read.

“Holy shit,” Caitlin whispered.

In a very poorly planned move, Chris dove across the back of the couch to pick up the phone, dropping the unopened soda cans in the process. He scrambled with cell phone for a second before he managed to hit the ‘Answer Call’ button.

“Hello?” he said.

There were some indistinct words from the other end of the line.

“Um, yeah,” Chris said. “I'm at home, watching the game.”

More words.

“Y-Yeah, of course,” Chris stuttered. “I’ll be there soon…. Um, ten minutes? Fifteen minutes? Yeah…. Um, thank you! Bye!”

He set down his phone.

“That was the Sharks coach,” Chris said after a moment. He looked faint. “They need me to come sit on the bench as the Emergency Backup Goalie.”

“Oh my god,” Caitlin said.

They stared at each other for another beat. Then Chris jumped to his feet. “Oh my god! I have to get my stuff!”

“I’ll help!” Caitlin said. “Where’s your chest plate?”

“Um, the closet!” Chris shouted. He was already tripping over himself to get to the bedroom.

“Which closet?”

“The hall one!”

She rushed to the hall closet and dug through coats and jackets until her hand connected with the smooth plastic of the chest plate. She yanked it out and threw it into the hall. “Where’s your helmet?” she called.

“What?”

“Helmet!”

Chris appeared outside the bedroom in his underwear, struggling to pull his Under Armour goalie shirt over his head. “Kitchen!” he said, his voice muffled under the fabric. “On top of the fridge!”

“Why is it on the fridge?!”

“I don’t know!”

Caitlin ran to the kitchen and jumped up to pull the helmet off the top of the refrigerator. Chris was stumbling into his compression shorts, trying to simultaneously pull out his hockey bag and pads from the bottom shelf of the linen closet. When he finally tugged it out he accidentally overestimated how heavy it would be and flung it back into the floor lamp at the end of the hallway. It fell to the floor with a loud crash. “Ah!”

“Leave it!” Caitlin said. “Leave it, let’s go!”

Chris glanced back at the lamp once before following her instructions and pulling his bag towards the front door. Caitlin tucked the helmet under her arm and snagged the keys to the car and their phones and wallets while Chris wrestled with his bag and the chest plate. They practically fell out the door and only barely managed to lock it behind them before scrambling to the car. Chris’s gear was unceremoniously thrown in the back and the engine was starting and Caitlin was pulling the car out onto the street and then they were on their way, heading in the direction of the SAP Center.

“Crap!” Chris said a block away from home. “I didn’t bring a stick!”

“I’m sure they have sticks there you can use.”

“Okay, okay, yeah, you’re right.”

Caitlin turned off their street. “Shit, where are we going to park when we get there? The place is going to be packed.”

“I think we’re supposed to go to the players parking lot?” Chris said.

“Oh right, yeah, of course,” Caitlin said. “That’s around the south side, right?”

“Yeah,” Chris said absently. He was typing away at his phone.

“Are you telling—”

“Yeah, the group chat—”

“Good,” Caitlin nodded. “Make sure they all get their asses in front of a TV and that someone is recording it. You can tell them I said that.”

Chris laughed nervously and started typing faster.

When they pulled into the players parking lot, the valet guys were already out there to meet them. There was also a woman in a hijab holding a clipboard and waiting next to the VIP entrance.

“Chris Chow?” the woman said as soon as they grabbed Chris’s stuff and jumped out of the car. “Thanks for getting here on such short notice. We really appreciate it. Um….” She looked past Chris and saw Caitlin.

“Oh, uh, I’m Caitlin,” Caitlin said, holding out her hand. “I’m Chris’s fiancee—”

“Manager,” Chris said at the same time. They both looked at him. “She’s my fiancee too. But she was my manager during my last two years playing in the NCAA, so, um. I was hoping—I mean, I’ll need her to come in with me, so I can sign stuff.”

Caitlin gave Chris’s hand a grateful squeeze.

“Of course,” the woman said, nodding. “Not a problem. I’m Fatima, by the way. We can get the paperwork going right away while we head over to pick up your jersey. Your jersey size hasn’t changed since college, has it?”

“No,” Chris said. They started walking into the building as the valet guys moved their car. “Same size, I think. Do I, um, do I—”

“Does he get to keep the jersey?” Caitlin asked.

Fatima turned back and smiled. “Of course.”

As Fatima began going over the terms of the one-game contract, she led them through a few small hallways and to a well-lit room with a desk in the center. There were Sharks jerseys hanging on racks lining the walls, and there was a machine at the back stitching “CHOW” into the back of a goalie jersey. Chris squeezed her hand even tighter and looked like he was about to cry.

“Here’s the form if you’d like to look over it,” Fatima said, handing them her clipboard. “We’ve still got about… ten minutes until the second period starts, so it’s fine if you need to take your time.”

“Thank you,” Chris said, but he didn’t move, so Caitlin reached out and accepted the clipboard for him. For a moment or two it looked like Chris was making a fairly decent effort to read the form, but he was still shifting nervously from foot to foot and his eyes were a little glazed. Caitlin skimmed the document quickly to make sure that her soon-to-be husband wasn’t signing away his soul before she handed him a pen. He signed the form.

By then, the machine had finished stitching Chris’s jersey. Fatima traded him the form for the jersey and he held it in his hands gently, like he was afraid he might damage it by gripping the fabric too hard. It was adorable to watch. God, she loved him.

Fatima shepherded them down a few more halls towards the door of a small utility locker room across the hall from the Sharks’ main locker room. There was a brief pause as they stood outside the door awkwardly before Caitlin realized that this was the part where she was supposed to say goodbye. “Oh!” she said. She rushed forward to hug him tightly. “I’m so proud of you, baby. You’re going to be fine, okay? I love you so, so much.”

He embraced her a little more hesitantly than she would have expected, probably because he was torn between hugging her back and keeping his new jersey out of harm's way. She giggled in his ear and then pulled back a little to kiss him.

Once Chris was safely deposited in the locker room, the hallway was silent. Caitlin felt like she’d just jumped off of a moving train and was now lying on her back in a ditch, trying to assess the damage. The last twenty-five minutes or so had been so hectic, what with getting all of Chris’s things together and trying to get to the arena and rushing him to the locker room. And now it felt to Caitlin like things were finally coming to a halt. Everything seemed almost surreally still and quiet. They’d made it. Chris was okay. She could feel her heartbeat begin to slow.

“You know,” Fatima said, “there’s a box reserved for media and personnel where I usually watch the games. I could take you up with me if you’d like, or I we can find you a seat in the arena.”

“Oh,” Caitlin said, because this was… unexpected. “The box would be awesome! Um, are you sure that would be, you know, allowed?”

“Don’t worry, I already texted my manager while you were looking over the contract. You’re cleared if you want to be,” Fatima said.

“Wow.” Caitlin laughed. “You sure are on top of it, aren’t you?”

Fatima winked. “That’s what I get paid for. So, to the box?”

“Okay. Yeah, sure.”

Fatima led her to a private elevator, swiped an ID card, and then hit the button for the highest floor. Caitlin fidgeted for a moment and then pulled out her phone. She had 53 unread messages. All of them were from the Samwell Men's Hockey group chat.

She started to read the most recent messages.

> [Chowder sent an image]
> 
> [Chowder sent an image]
> 
> [Chowder sent an image]
> 
> **Chowder:**
> 
> THERE’S A TV IN THE LOCKER ROOM!!!!!
> 
> **Ransom:**
> 
> Brooooooooooooooo
> 
> **Shitty:**
> 
> TAKE A PICTURE OF THE URINAL
> 
> **Bitty:**
> 
> Why?????
> 
> **Holster:**
> 
> URINAL URINAL URINAL URINAL
> 
> **Ransom:**
> 
> DO IT CHOWDER
> 
> **Shitty:**
> 
> You can tell a lot about a place by what kind of urinal it has
> 
> **Holster:**
> 
> CMON, URINALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL
> 
> [Chowder sent a picture.]
> 
> **Ransom:**
> 
> YESSSSSSSSSS!!!!
> 
> **Shitty:**
> 
> GAAH look at that porcelain
> 
> **Bitty:**
> 
> Lord help me

The elevator dinged, and Caitlin put her still-vibrating phone back in her pocket.

The suite was even nicer than she would have expected, and Fatima was great company. She was extremely easy to talk to. In less than a minute she had Cailin laughing at a story she told about something that happened on a Sharks media day. In a way, Fatima reminded Caitlin a little bit of March and April, her captains on the volleyball team.

Caitlin found herself so caught up in the conversation that she might have missed Chris coming out of the Sharks locker room if Fatima hadn’t said, “Oh, look! They’ve put your boy on the bench! That’s great!”

Caitlin looked across the arena to the home bench, and sure enough, there was Chris, sitting in full goalie gear and wearing his new jersey. Even from all the way up here she could tell how worked up he was. He was having a conversation with one of the other players on the bench and moving his hands in wild gestures.

It was actually a good game, but Caitlin couldn’t seem to stay focused on the players on the ice, not when Chris was on the bench. Was he still nervous? Probably. Definitely. Was he nervous enough to get sick, though? That happened to him sometimes; he almost threw up in this very arena the night he proposed to her. But then, he never seemed to get nervous during games back at Samwell. He showed a completely different side of himself when he was on the ice.

The rest of the game was something of a blur. They were leading by the end of the second period, and then somehow the third period seemed to slip away without her noticing. There were only a couple minutes left of the clock. The Sharks held the puck, playing defensively to run down the clock. Ten seconds were left and the crowd was already standing and clapping. The buzzer rang out across the arena. The Sharks had won.

The players on the bench all jumped out onto the ice to celebrate. She watched Chris hang back at first before someone grabbed his arm and pulled him through the gate. There was a celly on the ice and Chris was a _part_ of it and, in that moment, Caitlin wanted nothing more than to kiss the hell out of her fiance.

“Do you want to go meet Chris in the locker room?” Fatima said, like she was reading her mind. “I can probably get us in there while the media does their interviews.”

“That would be great!” Caitlin said. “You sure that’s okay?”

“Of course,” Fatima smiled. “The boys won’t mind.”

For some reason, Caitlin hadn’t quite processed that “the boys” meant “most of the Sharks professional hockey team” until all 6’5” of Brent Burns was standing across from her in the locker room, surrounded by a group of journalists. She could feel herself getting starstruck. She didn’t know what to say.

Luckily she didn’t have to think about it for very long. Chris caught her eye immediately and made a beeline for her.

“Cait,” he whispered frantically, clutching her arm with wide eyes. He was practically vibrating. “I met Mantas Armalis. I got to talk to him. And Logan Couture, too. And Pavelski nodded at me. He looked me in the eye!”

“Oh my god,” Caitlin said. “That’s crazy!”

“I know!” he said.

“I’m so proud of you.”

“I love you so much!”

“I was worried about you.”

“I’m fine. I mean I sort of thought I was going to throw up at the end of the second period? But I didn’t.”

Caitlin hugged him quickly. “The guys are _freaking out_.”

“Oh man, I haven’t checked the group chat since—”

He stopped and glanced over Caitlin’s shoulder, his eyes going impossibly wider. When she turned around, Caitlin saw Joe Thornton. _Joe Thornton_.

“It’s Joe Thornton,” Chris whispered. He was standing right behind them, talking to a group of interviewers. Caitlin took out her phone and started typing in the Samwell Men’s Hockey group chat.

> **Farmer:**
> 
> Joe Thornton is currently five feet away from us.
> 
> **Ransom:**
> 
> BROOOOO
> 
> **Bitty:**
> 
> Make sure to get some selfies!!!
> 
> **Holster:**
> 
> HOLYF UC K
> 
> **Ransom:**
> 
> JOE THORNTON IS LIKE, MY SECOND FAVORITE NHL PLAYER THIS IS SO UNFAIR
> 
> **Bitty:**
> 
> Rly??? I thought you ranked Alexei Mashkov before Joe Thornton
> 
> **Ransom:**
> 
> I do????
> 
> #1 favorite: Mashkov. #2 favorite: Joe Thornton.
> 
> **Bitty:**
> 
> ....................
> 
> **Lardo:**
> 
> aren’t u forgetting someone, rans?
> 
> **Ransom:**
> 
> ????
> 
> **Jack:**
> 
> Hello
> 
> **Ransom:**
> 
> OH FUCK

“What are they talking about?” Chris asked.

“Ransom forgot that Jack plays in the NHL again.”

“Again??”

“Yep. Also,” Caitlin said, trying to swallow down her starstruck jitters, “Bitty says we should get selfies.”

“Like, _now_?” Chris said. There were a fair number of journalists in the room, but the ones around Joe Thornton had just conveniently taken their leave.

Caitlin gulped. “Yeah. Let’s do it now.”

She squeezed Chris’s hand.

By the end of the night they had enough selfies to spam the group chat for several minutes. The room was loud. And also very full. But Chris was tall, and Caitlin was assertive. Between them, they had it under control. Needless to say, Bitty was impressed.

**_X_**

“We’re going to be telling our kids about this day,” Caitlin said on the drive home. It was long past midnight and everything felt a little quiet, a little surreal. “They’re going to get sick of it.”

“Oh, I hope they don’t,” Chris said. “Also, I hope our kids are Sharks fans.”

“We’ll raise them as Sharks fans, but once they get old enough to make their own decisions there’s not much we can do, sweetie.”

“I know,” Chris said, “but, like. I hope they’re Sharks fans. I hope they’re not, like, _Kings_ fans.”

“Oh gosh. We’d have to stage an intervention.”

“I love you,” Chris said suddenly. She glanced over at him in the passenger seat. His face was hard to see in the dim glow of the streetlights but she could see that he was smiling. She smiled back.

“I love you too.”

“If I hadn’t already asked you to marry me,” Chris said. “I’d ask again, like, right now.”

Caitlin laughed. “And I’d say yes. Again.”

“Can I kiss you? I know you’re driving, but I just really want to kiss you.”

“We’re almost home, babe. Can’t you wait a couple minutes?”

“I mean, I could,” Chris said. “But I don’t want to.”

Caitlin glanced over at him again. He looked so soft. She pulled over to the side of the road and put the car in park.

“Okay,” she said. “You can kiss me.”

He smiled at her like it was the first time, and did.


End file.
